That Night on Palmer Street
by Steffi Star
Summary: Three in the Morning. A call from Blaine asking to meet at the Lima Bean. Kurt unwillingly goes. Something has happened, Kurt can always tell. T from paranoia. Klaine
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This plot bunny has been breeding in my mind forever. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Do I look like Ryan Murphy? You don't know because then you'd be a stalker.

Walking down Palmer Street at Three in the Morning, a pain but I was called by my boyfriend. Of course I almost refused seeing as it was raining down in sheets, coating the area in grey and wetness. The concrete hard under my feet, slippery of course. Thunder sounded off in the distance. One… Two… Three…Four…Five…BOOM! One mile away. Of course Lima Bean was I the center of the storm. One mile from where I was walking.

My mind went to the strange conversation that I had with my boyfriend about thirty minutes prior. Rudely awakened by Teenage Dream, my ring tone for _him, _at Three in the Morning. Not the way I wished to be awakened. I was going to hang up or tell him to call back later but something told me to answer the phone.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Blaine. I need to talk to you. Can you come to the Lima Bean?"

"Now!"

"Please?" His voice sounded strained, pleading…. strange.

"Fine. This better not be a joke."

"It's not." Beeeeeeep! The line went dead.

I walked up to the stone steps to enter the Lima Bean. I saw almost no one there. Expect Blaine in a black drenched overcoat sitting in one of the chairs. With a duffle bag beside him. I felt one of my eyebrows lift as I pushed open the door hearing the entrance bell ding. Ignoring Blaine I walked to the register. The girl behind it looking dead, tired that is.

"Welcome to Lima Bean. Home of the most delicious bean around." The girl said without feeling. I order my coffee and quickly paid, wanting to get away from this sleepy grey hell as soon as possible. I walked over to where Blaine was sitting and plopped down. Nearly slamming my coffee on the table, but that would have broken the cup.

"What is sooo important you woke me up at Three in the Morning? I need my beauty sleep." I crossed my arms and glared and Blaine who kept silent, his face hidden in his black trench coat. Blaine continued his silence. He shrunk more into his trench coat.

"Blaine, if your going to say nothing then I'm leaving." I stood, grabbing my all-important coffee, and started walking toward the door, knowing I'd get a reaction. Kurt Hummel is not stupid.

"NO!" Blaine's unusually raspy voice strained as he grabbed my arm holding the coffee spilling it all over the floor.

"Then what Blaine? You called me at Three in the Morning, forced me to come here and then tell me nothing." I recrossed my arms. Blaine looked up from his coat revealing a black eye and handprints on his neck. I gasped, enveloping him in a hug.

"What happened?" I nuzzled my face into his cheek, I felt tears fall on my face. Blaine stuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out a fold piece of notebook paper. He set in on the table. I pulled away and sat back in my seat and grabbed the piece of paper. Carefully unfolding it I notice a letter written to me. I leaned back in my chair and began to read.

_My Dearest Kurt, _

_I love you. _

_I love you._

_I love you. _

_Words cannot describe how much love I feel for you. Unfortunately my family does not see this and has made it perfectly clear that as long as I "choose this lifestyle, then I am no longer welcome in the house" _

Thunder sounded outside the small coffee shop. Making Blaine jump in his seat.

_They gave me the night to think whether or not I choose you or THEM. It wasn't hard seeing as I'm here and not there. I love you, not THEM. I had packed my bag the night before. When morning came I had already walked to the door when perfectly my parents were waiting for me. The must have heard me seeing as how I left at Three in the Morning to avoid them. My FATHER looked red. Tomato red, I hate tomatoes. I told them I choose my true love. That's you Kurt. _

_My FATHER started choking me. Really throttling me. After about ten seconds my MOTHER decided I had, had enough and told my FATHER to stop. He did, then threw me out, along with my bag. I called you a few moments after. That's when I started walking toward the Lima Bean, waiting for you. I sat in the Lima Bean and wrote this letter. Seeing as it hurts to talk it seemed easier to just write you a letter. _

_I want to ask to stay at your house at least for a little while but I'm afraid you'll ask me to leave. You probably think that's nuts but Hey it's me baby. _

_Truest Love,_

_Blaine Anderson _

_I knew I was crying when I finished. I was so angry. Angry at his parents. Angry at homophobia. Angry at the world. Why? Why did this have to happen to someone as special as Blaine? It appeared to me as no reason at all. Just someone wanting to screw with Blaine and I. I refolded the letter and placed it in my pocket, shaking as I did so._

_He looked at me pleadingly. I understood. He was asking me the same question as in the letter. _

"_Of course you can stay at my house. You can stay for as long as you want." He ran and kneeled in front me, wrapping me in a hug. He lay his head on my lap and I saw tears in his eyes. I stared at the window as I bit my tongue, salty tears flowing into my mouth. _

_After a while we stood. Brushing each other off. I hugged him once more. I grabbed his bag and his hand and lead him out in the storm. Knowing there would be plenty more ahead. _

_A/N: I am pleased with this one. Please review. Cyber cookies and candy await you! I welcome all kinds of review. _

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	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I clap my hands for you *clap, clap* because you liked my one-shot that I wrote in ten minutes more than all my other stories combined. This is sort of a continuation of That Night on Palmer Street but written in a different POV.

Disclaimer: *Checking tiny house* Nope, sorry, can't find 'Glee' any where. Must not own it.

Four in Morning, an hour had passed. My wife and I sat in silence. On a small couch in the parlor. Thoughts swam in my muddy mind of the hour that had passed.

_Blaine__ who __he __had __strangled. __My __own __faggy __son. _

_Blaine __who __left __for __that__ boy. __My __own faggy __son._

_Blaine __who __he __broken __beyond __repair._

_Blaine __who __he __had __cast __out, __forever. _

Thoughts of Blaine ripped themselves through my mind. Thoughts of the bridge that I willfully burned. Blaine left their creators for a boy. I clenched my fist. I felt my blood boil underneath my skin. I hear the thunder outside the house. My vision turned from the dark room to be tinted with red. Blood rushing into my eyes. Rage clouded my mind.

I felt my body stand and walk over to the table that carried pictures of my 'beloved' Blaine. I brought my hands to one side of the table. I yelled as I shoved off all the pictures of Blaine. I continued yelling. Over what I had lost. I had lost a son. Blaine was dead to me now.

I kneeled in the scattered pile of broken glass and picked up a broken picture frame. Blaine's school photo, which he despised, I screamed into his face. I felt tears roll over my face, I brought my hand to my face and wiped away the tears I wept for my dead son. My wife came over to me and knelt beside my. I saw that she was also crying for our dead son.

"What do we do now?" My wife whispered, her voice strained with regret and sadness.

"What do you mean? There is nothing we can do." I said turning my head to look at her.

"Frank we can do something. We can apologize, we can accept." I shook my head. What was she talking about? Our son is dead, to this family that is.

"Our son is dead. I have no son." I whispered MY voice strained with sadness over loss. MY wife stared at me.

"Blaine is still out there." She said, standing, wiping off the glass from her knees.

"HE IS DEAD TO ME!" I screamed clenching the broken picture frame.

"Fine. Do what you want but I won't be apart of it." She straightened her clenched arms by her side. She turned and walked up to our room. A few moments later she came back down with her suitcase.

"I've wanted to leave you for years. Now you've just given me reason." She turned on her heel and walked out on me, her life, her home, her lifestyle. Her EVERYTHING.

I stood unsure of what to do. I looked around the large house. Never had it seemed so empty. It took me moments to realize that I was alone. Utterly alone. I lost my son. I lost my wife. I lost my family. I looked down at my hands. Blood ran from cuts in my palm where I had clenched the picture frame.

My clouded head grew even cloudier. Black started creeping into my vision. My blood boiled hotter still. My breaths quicker and I knew something bad was about to happened. I started trying to get to a chair but I was to late. I collapsed on the floor. Dead as the nail on the front door.

Frank Anderson

Died of Stroke on July 16th 2011

"We give love to the Devil, for it is he who taught us to grow"

A/N: I created and unintentional second chapter from all you reviews. I hope you enjoyed and as always:

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